Garak crossed his arms and shook his head.
"Ahh… I hope they all stop before our prince, or our king… or… Sir Alf comes. If they do… I wonder what will happen to these guards."
Marcor glared hard at them, both magic blades still in his hands. "I do wonder why those two maids…" He paused, looking at the maids standing behind the soldiers. "Why are they so insistent on coming in? And these guards… why did they suddenly fly into a rage?"
"Yeah… I also wonder. If one of them was like you, hot-blooded, I'd understand." Garak teased, nudging Marcor lightly. "But all eight of them? That's weird."
Marcor noticed one of the maids holding something, and all the Mathrias guards around them suddenly had their eyes turn red.
"Garak?"
